The Legacy I Leave
by AnonRecon
Summary: (REQUEST) Almost everyone hated him. Good. It was his goal in life to be as unlikable as possible. He'd scowl, snarl, and start fights with anyone who dared to try and get close. At least, that way, he would be safe.
1. Chapter 1

_AN~ Getting back into the Godzilla fandom, I managed to find a few really interesting people. One of which requested a fic along these lines, so here it is. I'm actually liking my ideas so far._

* * *

The red-light district always had a very distinct smell. It was the kind of thing that everyone tried to pretend didn't exist, but anyone who was unfamiliar with the area noticed it immediately. It would hit them like a ton of bricks directly into their nose and the initial cringe they'd give matched that of the scenario of the simile coming true. It went away quickly as most who came to the red-light district were there for a very compelling reason, but that didn't make the odor any less real.

It was a strange concoction of alcohol, nicotine, exhaust fumes, and body oder and he tried not to sigh too deeply as he exited the cab. His massive, spry form steadied itself on the curb where groups of the area's regulars tended to gather and quickly ducked into an alley between a bar and a small 'boutique'. The smell only got worse as he progressed passed dumpsters and bums on his way to the back-door of a hotel on main street. Considering the area, the hotel did very well. He knew, however, that it was by no effort of the owner who was as lazy as he was money hungry. The man had seemed almost business savvy when he took out a loan from a certain tycoon, presenting himself rather respectfully and intelligently, as one was told; however, his facade fell apart when he failed to pay-back the money he owed -in spite of having it, no less- and that was where the offer was going to expire.

Shrouded in a grey hoodie under a black leather jacket, he ducked behind the hinges of the metal door and knocked decisively six times. He retracted his hand and stood still as a stone and equally as silent before the door creaked open and another set of knocks rang out. The tenseness of his body relaxed slightly as he circled around the door and nodded to the chef who'd opened it as he walked in through the kitchen. There was a determination to his long stride as heavy boots thumped angerly through the restaurant and out into the lobby. Few were there at that time of night aside from the occasional disorderly drunk couple or business traveler. None of them paid him any mind and that meant well on them. He couldn't have any loose ends.

He made it to the elevator and managed to have the entire glass box to himself for the time being. He pressed the button for the twentieth floor. The owner of the hotel was staying in the suite for the night with the intentions of going to a convention in the morning at the Kyoto International Conference Center. It was more of an advertising venture than anything; not that it mattered anymore. As the elevator came to a stop at the eleventh floor, he rolled his eyes. A young women stepped into the elevator, looking to be in her early twenties and rather far along in a pregnancy. She was humorously draped in a dress of fiery colors that drew the eye in an unpleasant way. He didn't like it, but what did he know about fashion?

The woman smiled at him apprehensively and stood at the far end of the elevator after pressing the button for the lobby. The machine continued its acent to the twentieth floor and she showed a slight crack of dismay under the cheery mask she tried to wear. Perhaps with enough rest, she might have actually been good at hiding her emotions, but the girl looked exhausted. She glanced at him and tried another smile. "Anata wa dono reberudesu ka?" She was asking what floor he was going to.

"Hatachi," he answered in a gravel-stricken voice. She seemed to shudder slightly when he spoke and turned to look through the glass back of the elevator that over-saw the Tokyo skyline.

"Nante kawairashidesu," she exclaimed. She was calling the sight pretty. He only nodded as the doors to the elevator opened, stepping off and leaving the women to her sight-seeing. There was only one door on that floor at the end of a long hallway. It was a silver-like color with modern, sleek, steel handles. From his pocket, he pulled out a key and pushed silently into the room.

When he closed the door behind him, the room fell into near pitch darkness if not for the large windows in the sitting area. The night-lights of the city illuminated the white sofas, dark, wooden floors and reflected off of the glass coffee table. Before taking another step, he removed his boots. The less sound, the better. The man stalked through the living area and towards a door to the left of it. This door was unlocked and opened without hardly a sound. This room was also lit by a large window to the far right of an occupied bed set in the center of the room. The white sheets were bunched around a lump within. His massive form lumbered over to the bed, hands balled into tight fists with knuckles still bruised from his previous venture and eyes staring daggers of intent into the man in the covers. As he reached the bedside, back towards the window, he flicked on the bedside lamp. The bright, white light flashed harshly into the face of the man- thirty-year-old Takao Danno. He was a thin man with sharp features that accentuated a rather attractive face. If the intruder had his way, however, that would change.

Takao startled awake and almost instantly tried to fling himself from the bed to escape the stranger in his suite. This effort was in vain as the other man grabbed his right ankle and dragged him across the floor slam him against the window, the glass shaking from the impact of only half his strength. An incredible vice gripped Takao's throat as he stared into the pits of burning magma that were his attackers eyes. Their brown coloration looking almost red in the shine of the city lights. His face screamed western if not for his eyes and darker skin tone. The jaw was sharp and chin strong and broad. His teeth appeared incredibly white as he bore them in a snarl.

"Anata wa takusan no okane o karite imasu," came the growl of a voice. 'You owe a lot of money.'

The response was quivering like the flesh in the intruder's hands. "Dare ga watashi ni karite imasu ka?" 'Who do I owe?'

The intruder pulled back and slammed the man into the window again, this time causing the pane to crack in a threat to give way. "Yuu Arakawa!"

"Migi! Migi! Watashi wa okane ga aru! Watashi wa kuro shite imasu." 'Right. Right. I have the money. I have been struggling.'

The intruder snorted and slowly tightened his grip on Takao. His hand constricted until the man was gasping wet, choking breaths. No emotion crossed the intruder's face as that of the other became red and desperite, clawing at the arm that held him in place. "Wareware wa shitte iru. Watashitachiha nagaiai shira rete imashita." 'We know. We have known for a long time.' He drew Takao near to him, so close that his breath blew the sweat-drenched hairs that hung over his face. "Sore wa mohaya juyode wa arimasen." 'That does not matter anymore.'

Before Takao could attempt to utter a rebuttle, the intruder lunged forward, slamming the back of the man into the damaged window with all his force. The glass gave way as he released his grip and allowed Takao means to scream as he fell back towards street-level. The intruder didn't even watch. He turned on his heels and walked back towards the main room. He put his shoes back on and entered the elevator when it arrived. The decent towards the lobby was slow and silent, not a single floor stopped at before his destination. The lobby was still quiet, but the streets outside were buzzing with all the life of the red-light district gathered into one place. He ignored it. He walked back towards the kitchen, through it, and the door was closed behind him by the same chef.

He stopped in the alley and pulled a cellular phone from his coat-pocket. He sent the single word 'kanryo' to an unlisted number, made sure it arrived, then crushed the phone under his boot. The remains were scattered in a pile of food and other trash before he continued on his way around the back of the establishments. Then, there was a buzz in his other pocket. From it, he pulled another, phone. Across the lock-screen flashed a message. 'When are you coming home?'

The words always struck him in a way that no others could. He stayed out late and far from home often and that fact hurt, especially when his son reminded him almost every day. The boy didn't hate him for it, knowing that the work was for him, but there was a level of animosity towards the subject that hinged in his voice when they spoke. He was pulled from his thoughts as another message-from a different number- flashed on screen.

"Gojira, it's Hoshi. Junior told me you were out of town. Why is he home alone?"

THAT struck him worse.


	2. Chapter 2

Coming back at three am after rushing home on a 3 hour flight wasn't something that would put anyone in a good mood, but coupling that with already being mad and being unable to get any sleep on the flight home, Gojira was practically breathing both rage and absoulte exhaustion. One of the emotions outweighed the other and Gojira found the energy to nearly run up the flight of stairs leading to his apartment. Upon unlocking the door, he saw that the lights were still on. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. It was normal for Junior to stay up and wait for him sometimes, but until three in the morning was too much. He should've gone to bed. If Hoshi was still there and Junior was awake, then he'd be sure to give his younger brother a stern smack for letting the boy stay up.

The apartment was modestly fernished with darker, more earthtone walls and furnature. The front door lead into a cross section between the sitting room and kitchen and faced the short hallway that lead to the beadrooms and bathroom. Everything was slightly outdated by a few years, the stove by perhaps a decade, but it all surviced Gojira and Junior well enough. They didn't need to live a lavished life, just a tolerable one.

Gojira entered the home and was washed in the dim glow of a lamp as it leaked into the kitchen through the archway. It seemed to have only been the couch-side lamp by the window and he saw from the doorway that it was Hoshi sitting in the arm-chair. Junior was nowhere in sight. Hoshi nearly matched Gojira in height and kept a modest build, spending much of his time at fitness centers. His hair was a shining black with a dyed blond streek down the middle of his head like an odd sort of mohawk. Yet another fashion statement the elder didn't understand. The man sighed and allowed his shouders to sag as he walked into the room and locked eyes with Hoshi. There was a spark of disaproval in the other's and Gojira was tempted to shout his defence, but settled for a deep breath and a calm, low voice. If Junior was alseep, then he didn't want to wake him over something stupid.

"I didn't leave him home alone," the elder of the two said slowly. "I was paying my neighbor to watch him."

"He wasn't here when I showed up," said Hoshi, fiddling with a half-empty glass of water on the side-table. The shrill, quiet whine of the glass made the sleep-deprived Gojira cringe and want to bolt across the room to snatch up the object, but he refrained.

"Why are you here?"

"I came to tell you about a job-opening in the city. I heard you were looking, but when I got here, Junior was home alone and told me you were out of town. Where did you go?"

"You interrogating me?" The elder brother walked across the room to a small sofa and sat down, hands gripping the arms tightly. His brother made a habbit of trying to get involved in Gojira's private affairs, somehow believing that his elder brother played the wrong kind of games. Though it was true that Gojira's activities were criminal, Hoshi had no reason to be snooping. Hoshi shrugged and took a drink of water.

"You can't say I don't have probable cause. People around here say you disappear a lot."

"Oh, so you're asking my neighbors about me, now?"

"I'm worried about you, Goji. Dad is, too. You have a kid to raise and you run off for days at a time. We hear a LOT of stuff and we're not sure what to believe."

"I'm looking for a job! I see offers all over the place! I need to travel a little!"

"Why so far away?"

"I'll take anything I can get."

Hoshi sighed and shook his head. "Well, it can stop for now. Yoshiro Kaitai is hiring. I got you an interview at eleven on tuesday." Gojira huffed, giving his younger brother a look of sheer disbelief.

"You took it upon yourself? Did you not consider talking to me first?"

"You know, that's hard to do when you get a new phone every few weeks."

"If you couldn't get ahold of me, then you shouldn't have done it."

"You said you needed a job!"

Gojira stood up and crossed the room, eyes lit-up like wild-fire. He stood before his brother and snarled, growling his words in an attempt to avoid yelling. "I can handle it myself. You and dad don't need to worry about me and don't need to do things for me. I am a grown man and capable of taking care of myself and my son. Unless I give you a strict invitation, stay out of my life."

"What game are you playing, Goji?" Hoshi stood up in an attempt to rival his sibling, but fell short in intimidation. Hoshi may have been a fitness fanatic, but he wasn't anywhere near Gojira's level of power and he knew it well; however, he still dared stand on the thin line between bravary and foolishness by challenging his brother. "You can't keep blocking everyone out! Do you want everyone to leave? Do you want to be cut off? All we have ever done is care about you and you throw it all in our faces and tell us to fuck off!"

Gojira would've replied with all control abandoned, but both men fell deadsilent when they cought sight of a figure in the doorway. Turning both their heads, they saw a young man appearing to be between fifteen and seventeen years of age. He had no western features and kept a look of pure-blooded Asian decent. He was thin and wore a blue T-shirt and jogging pants. His hair was a short, bed-raggled mess and his face bled both confusion and caution. Gojira stood up strait, face losing all of its previous expression.

"Ossu... Honto ni gomen ne," he breathed. The apology almost choked him.

"Ossu, chichi." Junior popped his back and slowly walked over to the couch to sit down. He curled up on the cushons and stared up at the two with a new sense of annoyance. "Faitingu?"

Gojira nodded, looking down at the floor. "Hai." Junior only nodded and played idley with a stray fiber on the drawstrings of his pants. His father bit his lower lip and turned slowly to his brother. The words that left his lips were nearly spat in a slow growl. "We'll talk in the morning. You can sleep on the couch." Hoshi said nothing else and set himself down. Gojira accepted it as a sign of submission. He walked over to his son and ran a large hand through his hair. "Nenasai." The word was said listlessly and Junior nodded, getting up from the sofa and walking back through the Hallway with his father on his heels. They turned to enter different rooms and Gojira called quietly to his son. "Oyasumi."

"Oyasumi," the other mumbled as he closed the door. His father, however, dwindled in his own doorway, watching the place where his son had been for a good few minutes. There was a ghost there, a sort of aura that made the man fill with some semblance of helplessness. He hated the feeling and cherished those more common moments where he felt as though the world was in his palms. Those moments had come much more often when Junior was smaller, but, as he grew, his new-found independence saw fit to threaten Gojira's authority. It wasn't that the boy was in any way rebelious- quite the opposite, in fact- but that he could make his own choices and was smart enough to know right from wrong. In only a small ammount of time, Gojira wouldn't be needed at all and his role as a father would be almost useless.

The fact that Junior wasn't his actual son made the time seem even shorter. The corners of Gojira's mouth twitched upward as he recalled the memories. When Junior was little, the story was one that Gojira loved to exaggerate for the sake of eliciting looks of awe from his little boy. He reveled in the tale and begged for it to be told night after night. As the years wore on, the exaggerating lessened, but the story remained one that Junior loved hearing and one he still asked for on occasion. Gojira was loathed to think of it, however. The only good part of it was when he found Junior... or... Was given him, rather.

The man closed his bedroom door, finally, and approached his bed. He sat upon it and ran two sweaty palms on his legs and simply allowed himself to balance on them as he glared down at the floor. The day was fresh on his mind... It had been fourteen years prior and he was still with the United States Military. He was leading a small task force to an island off the coast of Japan where one of their drones had been downed. No one was sure as to how or why the drone was downed, but they simply needed the technology back for the sake of expenses. Gojira was never one to argue the politics of it all and simply followed the orders handed to him. It was the way he thought he needed to address things and the way he DID address things. Only after the incident on that island did he begin to realize the mistake of blindly trusting ANYONE.

* * *

 _"You've been to ground zero, right? Visited there or something?" The question came from Private Walker, a young, lean blond with a great level of enthusiasm for his line of work. He'd been a new addition to Gojira's unit and, as such, that happened to have been his first mission under the Asian-American's command._

 _"Yeah," responded the Sergeant coldly. Most of the men in his squad were known for being the melancholy prunes out of the bunch, Gojira included, but Walker was a sort of welcome change. Gojira tried to encourage his light-heartedness when he could if only to stop from going back to the way things had previously been. He'd rather **himself** be a cold recluse, not the people around him._

 _"So, is it true you can see shadows burned into buildings and stuff?"_

 _"Yeah. A lot of places where you find them are considered memorial sites. One really famous one is of a person with a walking-stick who died on the steps of a building. The Japanese are very sentimental about them, stating them as a reminder of the destructive force of man." Gojira was forced to speak over the loud buffeting of the Helicopter blades through a headset to the Private. They, and the rest of the squad, were being air-lifted to the island. "You look at those things and you get this cold, dead feeling in your chest. It's like being alone in a graveyard."_

 _"I can imagine. You're looking at someone's remains." Their conversation was interrupted as another voice broke out across the airwaves._

 _"ETA three minutes, Sergeant. Under the threat of anti-areal weapons, you're gonna have to do some swimming." It was the pilot. The Private looked to his commanding officer with a sickness in his eyes. He was scared. Gojira wished he knew how to help the boy, but that had no place with them. He had to suck it up or be sent back to wherever he came from. With a stone face, he stood._

 _"Prepare for bailout." Not even a second after the last syllable left his lips, his squad jumped to their feet, gathering everything they needed; weapons, minimal medical supplies, flashlights, the works. They all turned towards the rear hatch of the cargo helicopter and waited patiently, faces cold and determined... like machines. Walker was the only shred of humanity among them as he teetered between legs, balancing his weight on one or the other. He couldn't keep still and his hands fidgeted on the assault rifle draped over his shoulder._

 _There was a shift in the chopper's movements, a gliding swing forward then back before settling in a hover. The hatch dropped and Gojira didn't wait for the Pilot's confirmation. "Let's go!" With a single wave of the Sergeant's hand, each soldier dropped from the chopper, splashing down in the water below. The tips of Gojira's toes just barely touched the sandy floor and the salty breakers lapped at his mouth, nose, and eyes, stinging any uncovered opening into the body and didn't slow their savage assault until the helicopter had flown off far enough to where the wind from the propellers didn't lash out at them. The Sergeant took a quick glance around, counting his men, before beginning the short swim to the island which was in-sight._

 _Always a strong swimmer, Gojira managed to stay a good distance ahead of his squad, even with the heavy equipment and clothes weighing him down. In ten minutes, at least, the unit reached the shore and Sergeant Deperschmidt, a stocky red-head, drew back with a scrunched face. "Somethin' smells nasty," he huffed in disgust. Gojira had smelled it as well and he, too, felt himself being hit by the terrible stench._

 _"God damn. What is that? Smells like burning road-kill." His whispering voice was laced with an obvious sickness that he was barely holding back. "How far from the blip are we?"_

 _Deperschmidt flipped open a bulky device that looked like a mix between a hand-held detonator and an old, satellite phone. Atop the handle was a box with a shutter that was able to be flipped up like a cell-phone. The screen attached to the handle began to beep for a few short minutes before an undetailed map of the island appeared. Gojira looked over the other's shoulder at the device. "We're on the far east shore. We could walk around on the beach or we could cut through the island a small ways. There's a lot of uneven terrain, though. I don't think it'll be much faster. Might actually take longer, as a matter of fact."_

 _"Hrmm..." Gojira growled. "We walk the beaches, then." Gojira whistled and made a circular motion with his index finger above his head. His squad gathered around from their various spots nearby. "Alright, we're going to stay along the beaches and keep constant radio contact. We'll spit into two teams. Deperschmidt, Tempest and I will be team one. Roland, Walker, Mathis and Bordeaux will all be team two. We'll head south, you all will head north. If you find ANYTHING of note, contact me ASAP and, as unlikely as it is, if you find anything alive here, command says to ... 'handle it.' Move out!" Both teams moved mechanically in an instant after the order was spoken. Gojira took his team south around the beach and watched team two for as long as possible before they vanished behind the foliage. Gojira walked closest to the treeline and took note of the fact that the horrible stench seemed worse there. He tested this by walked back towards the water and then up to the treeline once of twice. Whatever that smell was, it was coming from the forest. That thought unnerved him. The team rounded the beach along the waterline and the white, dusty sand remained clear of most obstructions. There was a single fallen tree along the north side that stretched on for a good ways and, perhaps, a few shells and small rocks here and there. The treeline remained thick, like a wall, appearing to have no doorways into the world beyond; the world of mystery and awful smells. Gojira had no desire to cross the threshold, but might have a need to, eventually. The team continued the trek, finding little to nothing until a single, shard of jagged metal broke the cleanness and stuck out before them like a stop sign. The metal shard reached up a little ways past Gojira's waist. More notably, however, was the incredibly potent stench that wafted up from the pool of liquid in its basin. The Sergeant instinctivly covered his nose as he peered into it._

 _"What in God's name IS that?" he gagged out. His eyes were watering. Tempist, their teams medical officer, a short, but very spry, black-headed mexican-american, stood at his CO's left side and mirrored his actions._

 _"I- It has to be toxic. There's no way that something that nasty isn't." They looked at eachother before walking around the object to continue along the waterline. It wasn't long before they stopped again._

 _"Sir, we need to head in, now," said Deperschmidt, pointing to the forest. "The signal's coming from in there." Gojira looked to the trees, nose still being assaulting by the offensive oder swirling around their noses and sighed. He nodded at his team and took the liberty of leading them into the brush. With ginger movements, the three men pushed through the thick wall of green life and into the muddy vastness of the inner island. As the Sergeant had expected, the smell within was almost unbearable. It brough him to almost wretch multiple times with every layer of brush and, with every layer, the light would dwindle more and more. After only a few minutes, they were forced to use their gun-mounted flashlights to find their way. The forest stretched on for quite some time. Clearings were nonexistant and the team was tripping frequently on stumps, rockes, vines, and the occational small creature that would dart past their feet, sometimes hitting legs and startling them._

 _Snap. Snap. Snap._

 _Gojira froze and gave his team the signal to hold position. He quickly flicked off his flashlight.. The other two did the same. It wasn't an animal. The sounds were too deliberate._

 _Snap. Snap._

 _Another set came from the opposite side. Then, another set from in front of them. The fact that whatever had been making the noises hadn't spoken up made Gojira quickly realize that it wasn't friendly. There was no point in hiding or staying quiet. They were found. "Weapons up," Gojira ordered flatly, voice on a normal speaking level. Deperschmidt and Tempest understood just as their CO did and followed his command without question. Flashlights flicked on and illuminated the surrounding forest harshly, but not whatever was around them. Gojira's fiery eyes peered sharply into the darkness, fixed on a pivot. He swayed back and forth in waiting. The sounds had stopped, leaving only the natural rustle of the brush and trees overhead ringing in their ears and their breaths hitching against the stench._

 _Deperschmidt cried out as a dull thump broke the cycle of noise. A figure flashed out of view too fast for the Sergeant to open fire. Before they could realize what happened, Gojira felt a blunt force snap between his shoulder blades and send him forward into the dirt. he felt little through his armor, but the strength of the blow was enough. He quickly rolled onto his back just in time to see two forms rush at Tempest. The medic opened fire and dropped both of his attackers in seconds before backing up and tripping over Deperschmidt's leg as the other tried to get up. Gojira righted himself and stopped to listen to the rushing frenzy of sounds disappearing deeper into the foliage.. away from them. Once sure that the rest had gone, he turned to get a look at the two... people Tempest had shot. The Sergeant knew they were people from the first time he heard the sounds._

 _Both of them were dressed in tattered clothing, one in a formerly-white t-shirt with ripped up blue jeans, the other in cargo-shorts and a blazer with no shirt underneath. They were both barefoot with patchy hair and sallow-looking skin. They were both also dead. Tempest was always a good shot. The medic got up from the mud next to Deperschmidt and examined the people for himself, looking perplexed at them, even more so than Gojira. Tempest lifted one of their shirts to look at the skin underneath which was covered in sores and slough skin. Some of the hive-like sores looked to have been previously bleeding and scrapes lined the man's arms from palm to shoulder. Tempest then moved to their mouths, lifing their chapped and torn lips to peer inside. He backed away slowly, looking up at Gojira was a grave expression._

 _"Put on the gas-masks," he said, taking to time to reach for his own from his pack. Gojira did as was requested of him, but not without question._

 _"Why?" he asked as he positioned his own mask upon his face._

 _"These men appear to have radiation poisoning. What we've been smelling might be very toxic."_

 _"Radiation poisoning? What... Why are people even here and running around like-" Gojira stopped and pulled out his walk-e. "Team two, be advised: We may be dealing with extremely toxic chemicals and people suffering from deliria. Apply gas-masks and proceed with caution."_

 _"Yes, sir," came Mathis through the device. Gojira looked back at Tempest who had turned his attention to Deperschmidt's leg. Under the lifted pant leg was a fist-sized bruise already becoming swollen and discolored._

 _"Can you walk on it?" asked Gojira. Tempest answered for him._

 _"Just a bruise. Are you alright?" Gojira straitened his back, feeling the joints pop, but little more._

 _"Yeah. Which way is the signal coming from, Fin?" Deperschmidt sifted around in the underbrush for a moment before managing to find the small radar._

 _"Farther inland. That way." He pointed in the direction the people had fled to. It made Sergeant Oshiro grumble in dismay. He stood and waited for Tempest and Deperschmidt to right themselves before pulling a small camera from his pack along with a flashlight. He flicked the device on and crouched down, shining the dim, yellow light upon the corpses while snapping a few pictures._

 _"Hold up this one's arm," he told Tempest who obeyed and allowed Gojira to take a couple more pictures of the arm sores and particular skin pigment. To an outside eye, it might have seemed a strange practice, but documentation was key during many operations, especially when occurrences like that came around. Command would want those pictures and maybe more if they encountered the people again. Gojira was hard-pressed to call them 'natives' or 'islanders' due to the fact that there were no such things on that island, especially with clothing like that. "These people had to have come from off the island. This place has been abandoned since World War Two."_

 _"You sure, boss?" asked Deperschmidt._

 _"Only a single group of miners worked on this island and all of the remaining men were accounted for when this place was left alone after Japan declared war on the United States. It was visited briefly during the island-hopping raids, but these guys are obviously not World War Two veterans. Command didn't mention any history of radiation here, either." Gojira sat in thought, still crouched near the corpses. "Maybe there was a shipwreck. That would explain the people..."_

 _"This place have a name?" asked Tempest._

 _"Yeah. Lagos." The Sergeant picked up his Walk-e. "Hey, Mathis."_

 _"Yes, sir?" The voice, already fuzzy, was muffled, most likely by the newly-applied gas-mask._

 _"You know anything about this area? We got the whole 'mining history' thing, but command didn't tell me anything about possible radiation."_

 _"Uh... Well, the island is mostly unmapped and, aside from the miners, no human life has been documented here for a long time. This place wasn't really messed with during the war, but we are near Bikini Atoll. We're too far for any resulting damage, I'd think, though."Gojira looked up at his group._

 _"Bikini Atoll nuclear testing site. We're not that far from it. Think that's the cause of it?"_

 _Tempest shrugged. "Maybe if a bomb got off-course, but you'd see more damage." The Sergeant finally stood up, motioning for his team to follow as he turned towards the brush._

 _"Well, we can boil command for the details later. Let's get our drone." They broke through another layer of green and, even through the gas mask, the horrible oder increased ever so slightly and did so again and again the deeper they traveled. It didn't take long to find traces of the people they encountered. Footprints in the mud and disturbed plant life all lead them inland towards the signal and, surely, towards the island's inhabitants. None of them believed otherwise._

 _"Boss." Deperschmitd snagged Gojira's attention. The Sergeant turned around to see his squad-mate holding up a sheet of faded-green netting. The fabric sheet was half-burred in mud and brush with the roots of a few small plants intertwining with it into the soil. As he got closer, Sergeant Oshiro could clearly see the object's age and that it was not alone in the sense of man-made materials. Under, sunken slightly into the same soil was a rusted metal rod and some more fabric. All that was underneath when he lifted them, however, were insects and more mud. They dropped the items and looked at one another. By their eyes, Deperschmitd and Tempest were searching for answers._

 _"Probably from the war," Gojira offered. "They probably based here shortly during the raids." They all seemed to accept it as the truth and silently moved onward. They didn't see anything else like it. Not too long after they encountered the net, Gojira began to notice something odd about the surrounding landscape. Many plants seemed to grow outwards just slightly and more and more so as they progressed towards the signal. It reminded him of an incident when he was younger where, as a child, he had accidentally run into a growing peach-tree at his grandparents' and it had caused the tree to grow misshapen, bent in the direction Gojira had accidentally forced it into. The deeper they traveled, the more noticeable they became. They bowed almost gracefully outwards, back towards the sea and it didn't take a genius to realize why. They all saw it and they all drew the same silent conclusion even before reaching the ravaged, tangled metal of a wired fence being consumed by lush green._

 _From what remained of the fence, the landscape sloped downwards and, from where they stood atop that slope, they saw the ravaged ruins of what those before had long left behind. It was a camp-of sorts- almost devoured by the flowing acres of brush and sparse bowing trees. Stone buildings just barely poked out, looking more like steep, grassy hills in the distance. These stone structures were not complete-none of them were. They were all but partial walls, piles of rubble and twisted metal lost in a sea of reclaiming life. That wasn't all, however. There was something more, something physical and deep, hidden but so obvious. The damage was everywhere._

 _"There was an explosion here..."_

 _"Nuclear?" asked Deperschmidt_

 _"No, I don't think so. Not enough damage to the terrain. You can see the older trees bending back, and they've clearly been like this for some time, but... It's not big enough..."_

 _"I dunno, boss," Tempest broke in, coming to a stop next to Gojira before crouching down to examine a few shards of metal. "Radiation, blast damage... Seems pretty open and shut. Maybe a small-scale bomb made for precise targeting?"_

 _"I don't think a NUCLEAR bomb like that exists, but don't rule it out." Hesitantly, the three men descended into the valley below, walking as though on egg-shells. Their caution was clearly justified by the fact that they both had no idea what they were walking into and had no clear idea as to where the people from earlier had run off to. Their slow, graceless shuffle ended at the base of a foot-path, which was concerning considering something of the like had to have been used frequently and recently to have been so visible. Everything thus far had only served to prick the Sergeant's nerves. The smell, the people, the blast damage, all of it... "What if..." Gojira broke into the lengthy silence as they progressed towards the center of the valley, "...They accidentally ignited a seam in the mines?"_

 _"Like... A mineral vein or something?" asked Tempest._

 _"Yeah... Like that mine in Pennsylvania. The coal seams got ignited and it's been burning since the '60's. It didn't 'explode, but I'm sure something on that scale could happen with a large enough vein, especially with gas lines and explosives present."_

 _"The radiation pokes a whole in that, doesn't it?" Tempest attested._

 _"Yeah..." Silence fell upon them once more and they continued their trek through the old mining camp. As they drew closer to the almost invisible mine entrance, they stopped at a partially-standing structure and went inside simply for curiosity's sake. The roof to the two-story, brick building was completely gone along with a good portion of the upper floor. One wall on the lower floor sported a massive, gaping hole where two windows must've been, judging by the adjacent wall. There was little to really look at within the building aside from toppled shelves with nothing on or around them, a splintered, wooden counter that had been thrown across the room, and a broken staircase that prevented access to the upper-floor without effort the men weren't willing to put forth at the moment. The drone signal was not coming from there, so it didn't matter. They exited the first building from the back behind where the counter must've been to find themselves on a row of other buildings. Most of them were utterly annihilated by whatever event took place there and the few that were standing enough to explore had nothing inside but broken furniture and empty containers. That was... until they reached the closest standing structure to the mine entrance._

 _This structure, much like many of the others, wasn't standing by much and showed obvious signs of extraordinary damage. The walls had gaping holes as well as the upper floor, the furniture was scattered in pieces everywhere they looked, but one immediate difference that struck them as soon as they entered were a group of three little cots around a pit dug through the floor. This pit was slightly illuminated by the fresh embers of a recently snuffed fire. Gojira crouched by the pit and put out a hand towards it. "Pretty warm," he commented quietly. Tempest stepped around him and peered through a shattered window at the entrance to the mine. The doorway was a towering pit of shadows laying quietly behind a thin curtain of overgrowth. Sergeant Oshiro came to his side and stared into it as well. Turning back to Deperschmitd, they saw that he was already holding the tracker._

 _"It isn't in there," he said. "It's past the camp a little ways."_

 _"What?" Gojira trotted over to him and took the tracker with a furrowed brow. "But it was just... I just looked at this thing and it was closer than that. It was in the camp." Deperschmidt leaned over his shoulder and stared at the screen of the device. Tempest joined them and was as equally confused as his commanding officer. They sat there for a moment and watched the blip. Initially, it kept a constant location appearing to be close to the ridge on the other side of the camp from where they entered. The radar swept around the screen and that fact didn't change. It did it two more times and the blip stayed rooted in that particular spot. Gojira squinted his eyes and tilted his head. He moved the device, tapped on it, hit it a little aggressively, even and it showed no change. Then, he walked outside of the building with it and towards the ridge where the signal was coming from. He did so briskly until he was almost climbing up the incline. Then he heard it, a quiet rustle from above that existed for only a few moments before fading. He looked back to the radar to find that the signal was now moving farther out at a steady pace. With little hesitation he jogged back to Deperschmitd and Tempest who were climbing out of the building and pulled out his walk-e. "Team two, do you have the drone?"_

 _"You don't?"_

 _"No, we don't and the signal is moving. Try to cut it off."_

 _"Yes, sir." Gojira's own team members looked at him with mixes of weariness and annoyance._

 _"Looks like the local crazies have what's left of our drone," he growled, tossing the radar to Deperschmitd. "Let's go after them. Double-time it." They rushed up the hill and onto the ridge where they were met with more thick brush and trees that bent away from the camp. They broke through the threshold haphazardly as Gojira pushed Deperschmitd in front, he being better acquainted with the tracker than either Sergeant Oshiro or Tempest. He lead the group through the underbrush, shoving past bushes, vines and runt saplings. At that point, they cared not for subtlety as much as they did for getting back their drone, a quest halted when Deperschmidt did. Neither of the others asked why because the reason was right before their eyes. It was light. It was neither sunlight nor moonlight, but fire light. The dim, orange glow reached its fingers through the trees and met them with it's warm touch and, from the slits in the foliage it intertwined it's grip, they saw the answer to one of their most burning questions. There, in a mud-soaked clearing where trees had been shoved away and vines had tried to claim what man had made, was an airplane. The hull was rusted to a degree, but the white paint and dark 'Qantas' logo remained mostly visible. It was an Australian plane. The tail of it was completely gone, leaving a savagely ripped maw in it's place. Vines grew all over it and crude torches lit its wreckage as well as much of the surrounding jungle._

 _Gojira took a cautious step from the treeline and into the rim of the clearing that appeared to be empty. Aside from the torches and plane, there didn't seem to be any sign of humanity including their missing drone. Deperschmitd and Tempest followed Gojira into the clearing with similarly cautious stances. Gojira gripped the body of his rifle rightly as he reached the nose of the downed flight of which he released his grip to touch gingerly. Nothing happened. Nothing moved. He rounded to the other side of the plane where a row of torches lead up to the other side of the clearing and stopped. Deperschmitd tapped Sergeant Oshiro's shoulder. "It's in the plane." Gojira re-positioned his hands on his rifle and scowled up at the body._

 _Then, his ears snagged on a sound from his right side. He turned sharply, rifle raised to his eye-level just to see Roland, Walker, Mathis and_ _Bordeaux_ _emerge in similar stances from the jungle. Their positions relaxed upon recognizing one another. The four new additions to the group all turned their attention to the plane with awe-struck faces._

 _"Damn..." Private Walker breathed, approaching Gojira's side._

 _"The signal's coming from inside," Sergeant Oshiro sighed._

 _"What about the people who put it there?" Asked Walker._

 _"Well," Gojira began, "Try to be careful and check your targets. Don't shoot anything that doesn't attack you first, but be ready. They'll most likely attack you first. We'll go in through the cockpit. Come boost me up." Mathis and Tempest stepped forward and stood shoulder-to-shoulder. They lowered their hands to allow Gojira to step into their palms with his right foot, the left held out slightly to help keep his balance. Together, they counted to three and, with deep breaths, they heaved and lifted Sergeant Oshiro to the side-window of the cockpit. Once he could cling to the frame with both hands, Gojira lifted himself through the hole where the windscreen had once been and into the cabin. He landed lopsidedly, half on the pilot seat and half on the floor. The Sergeant rolled to his feet before taking out his slung rifle and aiming it's flashlight through the doorway leading into the passenger space. It was slightly ajar, only enough for him to make out the nearest row of seats to the left which seemed to be in mostly terrible condition. Quickly, he spun around and leaned out the window. Re-slinging his gun, he reached out the window with both hands._

 _"Walker comes next. Lift him up." Mathis and Tempest repeated the process with the smaller Private Walker who only needed to reach Gojira's hands to be pulled up and into the plane much more gracefully than his commanding officer. Walker had the Luxury of being able to step into the cabin rather than crawl. Thinking only for a moment, Gojira leaned out of the window once more. "And Fin. The rest of you stay out here and keep watch." Once the second of Gojira's chosen few was inside, the three of them progressed to the folding door of the cockpit. Sergeant Oshiro took the flimsy handle and pulled the door back the rest of the way to reveal what was left of the seating section of the plane. Every row seemed to have been damaged in some small wall from the crash and seats could be found torn apart or missing entirely. Slivers of light from the outside shone through the windows and almost covered gash in the back of the plane, but not enough to negate the need for their flashlights._

 _Deperschmitd found himself leading the group with the radar, one hand holding the device and the other holding his rifle loosely. He walked one row as Gojira and Walker traversed the other and they converged in the mangled rear of the machine, something almost inaccessible through encroaching plant-life and twisted metal. They didn't need to go far, however. Standing uncomfortably on the slant, the three of the stopped in front of a smooth, modern device. The drone's body was thin and shaped like one end of a q-tip. It was almost as tall as Gojira and would've been unable to fit into the plane's entryways had it not been for the fact that the wings were nonexistent. Only a single tail-rudder remained and it was being used to keep the drone in place against the tilted body of the plane. It was wedged into the doorway of a small storage compartment._

 _"Jesus...," Gojira sighed. "I'll be the first to say that this doesn't make any sense." The other two nodded. "Stay here and don't touch it." Sergeant Oshiro made his way back to the front of the plane and lowered himself from the window to where Tempest, Mathis and_ _Bordeaux stood waiting. All three of them looked to their commanding officer with tilted heads._

 _"It's not in there?" asked Mathis._

 _"No, it **is** , but it's sitting there like they're fucking handing it to us. Come on. We're gonna do a little sweep." They followed Gojira into the jungle just out of the reach of the shoddy torches. They shone their flashlights through the treeline and into the canopy, all seeing nothing but swaying branches, rustling leaves, and green so thick that the sky was invisible. Then, Gojira's light fell upon a body of reds and browns, large and lain still upon the floor. He stopped and so did his team, all focusing their lights on different parts if the object. Mathis' light ran along a stiff tail. __Bordeaux's light illuminated filthy glass left in shards both in the frame and on the ground near it. Tempest's flashlight rose along the length of a thin, bent slab of metal rising above the rusted corpse below. It was a helicopter. Mathis and Tempest backed away as Sergeant Oshiro approached it and placed a hand upon its hull. The metal held, but groaned quietly in protest to any pressure. The shape of the body seemed to be the clear ghost of a Bell UH-1Y venom, a utility helicopter initially introduced in 2008 by the United States military. That struck him rather uncomfortably considering how recent both the plane and this chopper seemed to be, even if the helicopter was quite rusted. Nothing was suppose to be on the island post World War II aside from them._

 _"Top." Gojira turned towards Mathis who had called him. Tempest stood next to him and they were both shining their lights deeper into the jungle. Sergeant Oshiro stood from him crouched position next to the helicopter and walked to them. Looking to the landing of their lights, his eyes widened. There was another helicopter and the remains of another passenger plane, both torn apart and scattered under sheets of lush underbrush. At a passing glance, no one would've assumed them more than hills. The hull of the plane was mostly scattered over a small area where it had obviously landed partially on the chopper, rupturing it even more than it already must have been. The only reason they even knew it was there was because of the propeller and cockpit lying almost under the cylindrical hull._

 _"My God... Where did all these come from? Did they all just HAPPEN to crash here?" Gojira breathed._

 _"Our drone crashed here, too. This can't all be coincidence," responded Tempest, sweeping his hand over the scene. "Those people have to be doing something."_

 _"They're delusional and running around hitting us with sticks! What could they possibly be doing to bring down aircraft? What if they were just passengers that survived being brought down?"_

 _"So they don't seem suspicious at all to you?"_

 _"I didn't say that. I just there are other possibilities. No, none of this makes sense. We have no idea what's going on here, but it's our job to figure any of it out. All we have to do is get our drone and leave. Once we've done that, we can head home and tell command what we've-"_

 _"Sergeant!" came a panicked, muffled whisper from the walk-e on Gojira's belt. He unhooked it quickly and spoke softly into the receiver, catching the tone of Walker's voice._

 _"What is it?"_

 _"They're back. The people are back. I can see them through the windows. They know we're in here. They have to. They're walking towards the plane all weird."_

 _"What do they look like?"_

 _Deperschmitd's voice was the one to answer. "Just like the two we killed. You know, sick and wearing ratty old clothes. What do we do?"_

 _"Stay put and defend yourselves if you have to. We're coming." He turned and looked at the other three. Wordlessly, the came up behind him and slunk low into the brush. They turned off their flashlights as they began to detect the faintest hint of orange glow. Through the trees, the could make out the forms of people encircling the plane. One voice, its owner not in sight, spoke loudly above the rest in another language, but one Gojira understood. "That... That's Japanese," he said under his breath._

 _"You sure," asked_ _Bordeaux._

 _"It's my first language. They're asking them to come out, but they're not happy... calling them some choice names."_

 _The voice spoke again, but much louder than before. Three figures began to approach the cockpit and lift themselves up to the window. Quickly, not wanting any unnecessary bloodshed, Gojira broke out into the clearing. "Matsu!" The group all jumped in surprise, turning back to look at him, faces soon turning parts hostile and parts confused. ' **wait**.' Those hanging onto the windows dropped down and a single man pushed through the small crowed of about twenty. He was thin and obviously older than the majority. His cargo shorts and stained-white t-shirt hung loosely on his malnourished frame. His expression was the most hostile of them all. "yoroshiku onegaishimasu." '_ _ **please.** ' _

_The elder man turned his head slightly, never loosing his disapproving glare. "Masuku o torinozoku, Akuma." ' **Remove the mask, demon.** ' _

_"Watashi wa dekinai. Kūki wa dokudesu. Watashi wa sore ga hokanohito ni nani o shita no ka mitekimashita." ' **I cannot. The air is poisonous. I have seen what it did to someone else.** ' Gojira took slow, deliberate steps forward, keeping his weapon slung onto his side. Both his hands remained free and held up with his palms facing the group in a passive gesture. His words did not deter the other man, however and neither did his attempt at seeming harmless._

 _"Watashi wa masuku ni hanashimasen!" ' **I will not talk to the mask!** ' With a sigh of resignation, Gojira took a deep breath and pulled the gas mask free from his face. Upon seeing it, the man's expression only worsened. "Anata wa yogoretachi o motte imasu!" ' **You have dirty blood!** ' He was speaking of Gojira's relations. Most of him bore the resemblance of his Japanese father, but there were parts of him that stuck out obviously from his American mother. Gojira had always wanted those parts to be erased. It sure would've made this confrontation easier._

 _"Sore wa mondaide wa arimasen. Watashitachiha subete ningendesu. Anata ga hoshī mono o oshietekudasai." ' **It doesn't matter. We're all human. Please tell me what you want.** ' _

_The man stamped his foot defiantly, his voice becoming an enraged snarl that cracked viciously as it rose. "We want you Americans to die!" The sudden use of English took Gojira by surprise. He stepped back a pace, but kept his passive stance._

 _"Why?" he questioned. The older man was answered for by a young woman to his left. She was just as thin and depraved of nutrition as he was and held the same animosity._

 _"Because you did this to us!"_

 _"You struck us and left us here to die!" continued the older man. "And now you've come back and killed two of us!"_

 _"They attacked us!" Sergeant Oshiro bit back._

 _"To defend our home! They had but wooden clubs and you raise guns in retaliation!"_

 _"We aren't here for you," the Asian-American responded, "We didn't even know you were on the island! We came here to get back our drone."_

 _"We heard you talking, mutt! We've watched you from the moment you arrived! You were told to 'handle' us! You were going to murder us all without provocation!"_

 _"That's not what that means! They wanted us to handle the situation accordingly using our own judgment! If you were really listening, you'd have heard me tell my men to only fight back if someone else initiated it!" Partial lies were all tossed about in the hopes that something could be done. If command knew there were people on the island, sick people that only wanted help, then maybe they'd be willing to extend a hand of grace, but he needed to get them on their side. They actually had to be willing to accept the gesture._

 _"I am not a moron! You can spout about interpretation all you want, but I know how you people are! It isn't just American's, either. All militaries are sick and full of their code; words they use to lessen the impact! To make it seem like they aren't doing what they're doing! To save face! You are no different! You try to seem diplomatic and speak to us in our tongue to try and gain our trust, but you are a cold, savage man who will always follow, no matter what the order says. Each and every one of you." His voice dropped to a hiss, eyes narrowing. By then, the other three had broken from the treeline and taken spaces at their commanding officer's side. They stood unified, mirroring his stance of empty hands and calm fronts._

 _Then, the man dropped to his knees and folded his hands behind his head, face stone cold. The rest of the group followed his example. "Go on, then, soldier," he said after a moment of eerie silence. "Do what you must. Prove me right." Gojira narrowed his eyes at the man, watching him intently. After some time, he looked to the others._

 _"Keep your sights on them." At that, they took positions around the group and raised their rifles in hand. At the movement they did so, small jumps came from the group, looks of fear washing over most of their faces. The old man, however, smiled. He felt as though his beliefs were correct. Ignoring it, Sergeant Oshiro pulled his walk-e from his belt and radioed up to the two men left inside the plane. "Bring the drone out."_

 _Before long, the grey body of the drone was rested within the clearing and the group of people still hadn't moved from their places. They watched the soldiers, some with cold looks, others with weary or uncertain ones. Gojira looked at the drone and kept checking his watch with Walker and Deperschmitd at his sides. "What are we going to do?" asked Walker, breaking the cycle of silence. Sergeant Oshiro sighed and looked up to the sky above, distress clear upon his face. He hadn't put the mask back on. He hadn't thought to and everyone seemed to forget. "Are we going to leave them all here?" There remained no response from their commanding officer. The Asian-American was lost in thought, eyes closed and brow scrunched. Something wasn't alright. Something was bothering him. A sickness caused his gut to tighten and elicit pain. With slow, unsteady hands, Gojira reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a plastic bag containing a folded piece of paper. Without even opening his eyes or tearing his upward tilt from the sky, he handed the bag to Walker who took it gingerly and opened it. He unfolded the paper within and sat reading the typed words upon it. His reaction was almost instant upon reaching the middle of the page. "We can't do this!" he cried, crumpling the paper and tossing it to the ground by their feet._

 _Gojira ran a hand over his sweat-drenched neck and finally moved to look at the other, his normally burning eyes only smoldering embers. "I know."_

 _"So what do **you** say we do?" _

_"I... I can't tell you... I'm at a loss here..."_

 _"What? You're 'at a loss'? I mean no disrespect, sir, but you **know** this is wrong. We can't do this." _

_"What's the alternative, Private?" Walker stared at his CO in utter shock._

 _"The alternative? Say we never saw these people! Say the island was uninhabited! Lie! You can't be serious, Gojira."_

 _"Lie to command, erase all evidence of people on our venture. Make up stories and teach them to everyone so that no one messes up. Make sure everyone is committed to the lie and count on the fact that everyone here has the same moral ideals as you or I... You know it can't work. If you want to take the high-road, we can all head home and leave these people be, tell command the truth and take the punishment for not following the orders, but we are not lying to them about something this big. What we will lie about, however, is the fact that you two knew about the orders." Both of the other men stared lopsidedly at Sergeant Oshiro who removed the hand from his neck and breathed deeply through his nose. "Deperschmitd didn't read it and I never showed you the paper. I am the only one who knew about it and I am the only person to blame for the orders not being followed. That is the story you two will stick to and the story the other three will tell because they really didn't know. From beginning to end, you are to deny, deny, deny... Do you understand?" he stared pointedly at the each of them._

 _"What'll happen to you?" asked Fin._

 _"They can't kill me. I'll be fine. Just do as you're told." Without saying another word, he turned towards the other three and approached the crowed of people. He scanned the rows briefly. "Alright, get the drone and let's head back to the beach for extraction. We're done here." Mathis watched him as he turned from the crowed._

 _"What about them?" he asked, jabbing his barrel in their direction. Gojira glared at him, eyes lighting up once more._

 _"Do as you're told." They were taken back by the hostility in their CO's voice and followed close behind as he neared the edge of the treeline. Deperschmitd, Walker and Tempest carried the drone. He was willing to leave it all there. He was willing to let them stay where they were and take the heat. He couldn't get them help, but he could let them live whatever life they had there. He was willing to lost his job for it..._

 _He should've known they wouldn't accept his hand of grace._

 _An almost inaudible whistle caused Gojira's ears to prick, but he couldn't react fast enough. Mathis fell to the ground at his right with a wet, thunk and gurgle. Looking down, Sergeant Oshiro could only vaguely make out the object lodged in his neck before he felt the weight of another person press down upon his back. He rolled instinctively to try and dislodge his assailant just in time to see the drone dropped and the muzzle of Fin's assault rifle light up. Foot fall thundered around him and people swarmed in all directions. The Asian-American flung his elbow back into the face of a man that had tried to strangle him, but lacked the strength to best the larger man. The malnourished person fell back and held his nose with a moan before crawling off. Gojira wasn't to his feet for more than a second before a blunt object smacked into his head. He fell back to the ground. His vision was blurred and ears were ringing, but he could see a figure hunched over Mathis' now still body. This figure, too, was struck down, left alone as the others backed into the jungle, guns firing. Bodies rushed after them, some falling and others passing the Sergeant in blurs and vanishing into the brush._

 _It was a long time before Gojira could pick himself up just slightly. He balanced his upper body on his elbows and took deep breaths. He took in everything he could. Looked past his feet, he saw Mathis' bloodied face turned partially towards the jungle and he saw Walker's body lain over him, the back of his head but a mess of broken bone and blood mush. His chest tightened. He rolled into his stomach and tried to push himself up, but only made it as far as his knees before getting dizzy and halting. He breathed... **In and out**... He took in the silence... **In and out**... he looked at the bodies, few in number, scattered over the clearing... **In and out**... He wanted to yell, to ask why... He stood... And breathed deeply one last time before something caught his eyes. He looked back towards the plane..._

 _There, on the ground, leaned against the nose, was a shaking body. It was curled into itself and looked to be shivering. On uneasy feet, he made his way over to it. Each step, each impact with the ground, made the space behind his eyes burn. When he got close enough to it, but an arm's length away, the head of it turned, showing itself to be a women, faced stained with both blood and tears. She stared at him and he stared at her. He wasn't sure what to feel... what to say... She only looked at him, breathing uneasily and gripping something to her chest. Then, slowly, she removed it from her and held it out to him, a ragged, broken sob escaping her lips along with a small trickle of blood._

 _It was a small, wriggling, newborn baby..._

 _Gojira gasped uneasily and took a step back. The woman sobbed louder and shoved the child outwards more forcefully. "Kare o tsuretekuru," she begged. "Kare o tsuretekuru." He stared back in silence, watching the form of the child move unhappily, soon mustering a voice to cry. He reached out with gripping hands, kicking with fussy feet... His eyes were screwed shut and face contorted in an angry expression. His skin was soft and yet untouched with whatever sickness consumed the island. She tried once more to shove the child towards Gojira and, this time, he reached out carefully and took him from her hands. She fell to her own, glaring through matted locks of hair before collapsing into the dirt, breaths jagged... Shallow... then nonexistent..._

* * *

Gojira jolted upright with a heavy cough, covering his mouth as the fits began. Quickly, he rushed from his bedroom and to the bathroom, attempting to stifle them. He leaned over the bowl of the sink and let himself heave and hack uncontrollably for a few minutes, eyes screwed shut in pain. Once the coughing had subsided, he let his eyes drift ajar and stare at the lines of red liquid drifting down towards the drain.


End file.
